


Calling It

by somethingclever



Series: Tim IS a caring and nurturing person. [5]
Category: Justified
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions homophobia, implied/mentioned hate crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingclever/pseuds/somethingclever
Summary: Winona wants to know how long Tim and Raylan have been dating, and why they just won't tell her.Raylan wants to know where she got that idea.Tim just wants... well.





	1. Winona

Willa boiled out of Raylan's car and into hers, clutching her treasured bunny in her right hand and a sticky, smashed up fruit roll up in her left, "Bye daddy! Bye! See you soon!" she called, setting aside the roll up and not the bunny to buckle into her seat. "Mama, Tim bought me," she held up the sticky mass of pink sugar, "Pink ones! and Artie ate them too, he liked it, and Tim said since he likes it, we can get them next time, maybe! Can I get some for home, too, not just Tim's? Daddy has a box too, but he still has the purple ones and he says I have to eat all the purple before he'll buy a pink one-"

 

Tim again?  and he was buying her fruit roll ups?  Winona answered her daughter after reaching to check the straps, and tried to figure out just what was going on with that.  Since when, exactly, did Willa spend that much time with Raylan's friends?

 

Since when did Raylan  _have_  friends to spend time with, outside of work? (which, she would grant, he kept their daughter away from, probably because he knew she'd take her away and win that court case in a heartbeat).  Tim... she remembered him.  Raylan had mentioned he was moving from North Dakota, was it? down to Miami, with his son.  He'd quit being a Marshal to be a forest ranger, and she'd asked Raylan why he had never done that.  Smaller than Raylan, if she remembered right, and at the center of courthouse gossip for a few months after he started working in the Marshal's offices, and then any time he'd wear that one shirt, the girls would start up again...

 

Winona was pretty sure he was gay, and she  _knew_  Raylan was bi - she'd known before their marriage.  Raylan was always scrupulously honest about that sort of thing, even if he couldn't be bothered to give the time of day about things that actually  _mattered_ , like what he was thinking or feeling. Just thinking about that stirred her up, and she flexed her hands on the steering wheel.  "Does your daddy stay at Tim's house?" she asked.

 

"Yeah!" Willa said, "We had a s'eepover, me and Artie, stayed up until nine to watch a movie and had popcorn! I didn't wanna go home, so Tim said if Daddy wanted, we could stay, so we did! it was super fun, I slept on a futon in Tim's army sleeping bag. It's been all over the world, mama.  I liked it, I wanna go again, but daddy said it was a special occasion." She paused, and Winona waited, "We eat dinner at Tim's a lot, I like to play with Artie so daddy takes me."

 

That wasn't the answer she'd expected, but maybe he was being discreet? 

 

Raylan.

 

Discreet. 

 

Ha.

 

She'd just have to ask him, then, because she had a right to know, if her daughter was staying with another man, or might someday call another man 'daddy'.

 

As if he'd stay with Raylan that long...

 

The next weekend, Winona got out of the car at the drop-off and walked up to talk to Raylan about it.  After all, she had a right to know. "So," she leaned in the window of his car, tilting her head to smile at him, "When were you gonna tell me that you'n Tim are dating?"  


Raylan's expression- a deer caught in headlights- made her teeth go on edge. Really, Raylan? It was a simple enough question. "I don't like being the last to know these things," she went on, "And besides, if he's dating you, I'd like to get to know him a little better."

 

Raylan still didn't speak, staring at her blankly.  "He's cute," she admitted, "Most of the girls back in Lexington wanted a piece, especially when he first started... hottest thing in the office 'til you showed up, although most of us agreed he'd be better if he didn't talk." She smiled thinly, remembering the 'hot new Marshal' Denise had told her she had to see- and then realizing it was her ex.  "Little young, though? For you, I mean."

 

This one-sided conversation was starting to feel awkward.  "Well?" She asked, "It ain't like I asked how he is in bed, Raylan, or if he's got more than the one tattoo."  Although there had been a time she might have liked to know the answers to both those questions, and if Raylan offered that info, she'd take it.

 

"We aren't-" Raylan answered her, voice a little faint, "For god's sakes, Winona! I don't know how he is in bed!"

 

"Taking it slow? That ain't like you."

 

"I- we aren't dating, Winona. Damn. I don't even- what put that into your head?" He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, managing to look embarrassed, curious, and pissy at the same time.  She liked getting that reaction.  

 

"Even if you aren’t dating,” she grinned, “You might know. And what put it in my head?  Uh, that you all spend a lot of time together, and he cooks you food?" She said, "And from what Willa's told me, you've slept there a time or two."

 

"We're single dads.  We're outnumbered at the park.  And yeah. Twice," Raylan said, temper winning over embarrassment or curiosity, "On the couch.  Once because he had to take cold medicine and was afraid he wouldn't hear Artie, and once because Willa really wanted to sleep in his sleeping bag."

 

"And you ain't ever snuck a look?" She sure would have. 

 

"Winona," Raylan growled, "You gonna let me have my daughter this weekend, or are you gonna keep grilling me like a hamburger?"

 

"Hamburger's about right, you sure ain't steak no more," she straightened, annoyed by his attitude and not being straightforward about the obvious between him and Tim, "Yeah, I'll get her right out to you." She went back inside to help Willa with her case.  

 

Willa ran to get in the car, blew her kisses goodbye, and she watched them pull out.

 

Would it kill him, she wondered, to be honest? 

 

 


	2. Raylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan's not thinking about it, and he's gonna distance himself. Really.

Raylan tried not to let it rankle, and he took Willa home and made her dinner- she complained that Tim made better grilled cheese, and he cut it into smaller squares which apparently improved it enough for her to eat.  

 

He did go over there a lot, he realized. And they did spend their free time together, even without a plan. Shit, he could be perfectly happy just tooling around on his computer, working, while the kids played and Tim ironed his uniform or did whatever obsessive thing Tim did.

 

He needed to put a stop to that, if Winona was thinking that, then everybody likely was, and Tim didn't need that.  

 

Besides, if he cut back on seeing Tim, Winona might not harass him about it again next time... he bit back a groan.

 

What's he like in bed, indeed... better not think about that… probably snarky, pushy, and lord, that _mouth…_  


Not seeing Tim as much lasted a hot minute and a half- or the weekend. Willa did ask why they went to a new park, but she was distracted by the tire swing and the proximity to an ice cream truck route.  

 

By Tuesday, Raylan was bored and admittedly lonely, and for fuck's sake, it wasn't like he was dating him, they were friends who liked to spend time together, and- he had about worked himself up to go visit after dinner when Tim texted.

 

_Artie's got a fever and I'm out of baby Tylenol. You got any?_

 

He did, and he grabbed it and the chance to get out and off his couch, heading straight over to Tim's- pausing to grab some popsicles Willa favored when she didn't feel good. "Thank god," Tim said, accepting to little bottle at the door, "Dinner's on the stove," he said absently, over Artie's screeching wail, "Help yourself. Okay, kiddo, okay, let's go take our medicine..."

 

Raylan made himself a plate and ate it, even though he'd already heated and eaten a TV dinner at home, noting that Artie had thrown all attempts at solid food on the floor- he cleaned it up- and that Tim's plate was untouched.  He took care of his dishes and followed the whimpers to their source. "Been like this long?"

 

"Two days. Teething and a double ear infection, found out this morning, and he dumped the Tylenol all over his bear when I turned around, so-"

 

"Aw, hell. Here, let me take him, you go eat?"

 

"You don't have to-"

 

No, he didn't, Raylan thought, but he wanted to, and he didn't have anything better to do or place to be.  Besides, Tim was his buddy, and needed a hand.  "I got him. We'll watch daddy eat, huh, Artie?" He took the baby and bounced him as Tim went to the kitchen to finish his meal.  Artie didn't let up on the lungs, but Tim looked better when he finished, at least.

 

He held up his hands to take the baby back, and Raylan wondered, briefly and guiltily, if he had any other tattoos- he remembered the edge of one on his chest.  Were there more? Where? What were they?

 

None of his business.  


Tim passed out on the couch with Artie on his chest, fifteen minutes into the basketball game.  Raylan decided to stick around, because that was dangerous, and also, it was a good game.

 

Tim woke up just as the game ended, looking over at him and giving him a wan smile, "Hey," he said, "Sorry we're such shit company."

 

"The game's a good one," Raylan shrugged, "And I took your beer."

 

"I don't like that brand anyways," Tim yawned.

 

"Then why buy it?"

 

"You'll drink it, and it keeps you outta mine?" Tim didn't shrug, but it was implied in his tone.

 

Well, *shit*, they probably *were* dating and nobody bothered to tell him. 

 

"What's the face for?" 

 

"Remembered something."

 

"Ah." Tim nodded, looking back at the TV. "Well, forget it again if it makes you look like that."

 

"I will."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	3. Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's adventures in grocery shopping... and how Kentucky coulda been something of a, uh. Problem.

Tim's encounters with Winona had rarely been of any note.  She'd been in the cadre of women at the courthouse who thought him attractive when he first started, though she'd been subtler about it than most.  He'd also been an unwilling witness to how she treated Raylan and, while Raylan could be an asshole and likely deserved roughly half of what he got, she had gone a bit overboard, in his opinion.

 

But he didn't need to have an opinion, so he discarded it whenever it showed itself.  It was like a deep rooted weed, though, that grew pretty damn well in Miami's shitty sandy soil.  Maybe it was the proximity. Maybe it was the weekends Raylan didn't get Willa.

 

Maybe it was because she was a bitch.

 

But hey, not his monkey or circus.

 

His monkey and circus and whole world was currently drooling on Tim's shirt as he carried him through the grocery store.  Thank god for carriers, since Artie acted like the cart was a fucking electric chair.  He was an angel in a carrier though, especially if he could get a mouthful of shirt.  Which he currently did.

 

So it was a good day for his monkey in his circus, and Tim circled back down the snack aisle. Willa had mentioned she wanted to try the colored goldfish.  Tim thought they looked like cat food, but she liked them, and Artie would eat anything Tim told him was goldfish, including carrots and peas.

 

He should feel guilty about that.

 

He didn't.

 

"Tim?" He turned and looked almost straight into a woman's eyes- Winona.  "Hey there, honey," she greeted Artie, "He's cute."

 

Maybe not such a bitch? tim smiled at her and Artie blew bubbles at her, gumming along his fistful of fabric. 

"He is," Tim agreed, happy someone else agreed about his son. 

 

"He looks a lot like you," she said, smiling, and Tim snorted softly, but didn't bother to correct her.

 

"I'm fond of him," he said instead, getting the goldfish behind the goldfish in front.  Old habit, but he couldn't do much else, fingers checking the seals before setting it in the cart.  

 

"Quite a move, from Yellowstone to here," she said, "It was nice of you to do it, though."

 

Nice? To move? Huh. "I guess," Tim said, considering, "The schools are better here."

 

"Uhhuh," she smiled knowingly, and Tim felt uncomfortably out of step.  "They are. So, in Kentucky..."

 

He waited for her to finish the sentence, as politely as he could. After all, this was Willa's beloved mother, and the last thing he wanted was to piss her off.

 

"Were you and Raylan..."

 

Tim waited some more, tilting his head. 

  
"You know..." Tim really didn't, and she huffed, "Were y'all sleeping together in Kentucky, too? And you followed him here?"

 

The snack labels blurred and his fingers curled around the handle of the cart, suddenly damp with the realization that she thought... "Oh!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her perfect fingers and fingernails (ridiculous for a typist), "I'm sorry, I should have guessed from his reaction that you aren't, you know... out."

 

He wasn't _out_ because he'd never fucking bothered to go _in_. His sexuality had mattered to others about as much as his potted plant preferences (plastic. You can’t kill plastic. It doesn’t even biodegrade).

 

"No. We were not together in Kentucky. He was all yours once you conned him away from Ava."

 

"I did not 'con'-"

 

Tim spitted her with a look.

 

"It was just a question, no need to be so sensitive!"

 

Tim started pushing the cart away. "God, what an asshole," she muttered.

 

That... was enough to spin him around, "I may be an asshole," he allowed, "But I wasn't one, to you, just now."

 

"Really?" She cocked her hip, looking at him with anger in every line, "That line about Ava?"

 

"You," Tim said, "Were married. And you jerked Raylan around like a dog on a chain and you almost ruined his career with that little stunt you pulled in evidence."

 

"He told you about that?" She went utterly pale, and Tim shook his head, disgusted.

 

"No.  I'm good at my job." And loyal to a goddamn fault, but that was neither here nor there, and nothing to her. "What was my job," he said, clinging to his temper by his teeth and the straps of the baby carrier.

 

He was thirty one. He didn't need to fight in the snack aisle.

 

"If you were so good at it, how come I heard you got fired?"

 

Tim took a breath, and walked away.  Not his circus, or his monkey.  Not his problem.  "And if you're not with him," she said to his shoulders, "Why're you buying his brand of beer?"

 

Tim rolled his eyes and headed to the checkout.  She'd set off his nerves enough that he knew he needed to get the hell out of the store, before- Artie's four teeth found flesh and bit, and he hissed, on solid ground again.  He wrapped a hand around his son and breathed.

 

He made dinner and thought about what she'd said, listening for Raylan's car in the drive.  

 

Shit. They were dating, and nobody had bothered to tell him.  He made a face, setting the table for two and a ten month old, decided that Willa would probably be with Raylan, and set her place, too. 

 

Dammit.

 

They should probably talk about it, if she thought that, the women at the park would, too, which explained a lot, come to think of it... 

 

Raylan came in, Willa perched on his shoulders, and Artie crowed, setting aside the pot lid he'd been banging on the floor to grab onto Raylan's leg, pulling himself up and reaching up to be held, too.

 

Goddamn it. 

 

"What?" Raylan asked after greeting Artie and putting Willa down so she could go play before dinner. 

 

"What, what?"

 

"Your face."  
  
"Just thought of something."

 

"Oh. Well. Lemme know if I can help with it?"

 

"Course."  
  
Tim poured the salad into a bowl, his back to Raylan, but he could see him in the window reflection. "Ran into Winona at the store."

 

Raylan tilted his head, curious for a second, before he went stiff like a cat spying a dog.  "You did?"

 

"Wanted to know if we were together in Kentucky or what."

 

"Shit, Tim, I told her-"

 

"I told her too," Tim said tiredly, looking at him over his shoulder, saw worry in the corners of his eyes and his hand running through his hair. You never wondered what Raylan was thinking, Tim thought, his hands and eyes would tell you if you looked. "So don't worry about it."

 

Raylan sat down heavily, looking up at Tim for a moment. "It's not a worry," he said, thumb rubbing a circle over his knee, "For me. Well, it is, but not... you."

 

That was as clear as a pond in the 'glades.  "What?"

 

"The idea of you and me," he waved a hand easily between them, other hand still worrying at his jeans, "Doesn't trouble me. I worry because... Kentucky? And all that means for..." he made a quick motion around and behind his neck and head and pulled the pantomimed noose, eyes fixed somewhere around Tim's shoes.

 

Tim fought back blinding rage, "As if," he snarled, "I'd let you come to harm, Raylan, over that?"

 

"No," Raylan looked up at him, smiling a little and tilting his head, "But I would worry over you." he said it as simply as if he'd declared that water was wet, and Harlan was a cesspit in hell. 

 

"Me?" Tim snorted, "Like you'd be anywhere but on my six? Dating or not, Raylan, there's nobody alive I'd rather have there. Put that right outta your mind."

 

"It's a long-time-coming thing, the worry," Raylan shrugged, "Been part of me for twenty-some years.  It doesn't just... stop."

 

"No," Tim said slowly, "I can see how it wouldn't.  But neither of us is defenseless. Can you imagine being stupid enough to knock on our door in the night? Imagine somebody makin' trouble for our babies?"

 

Raylan laughed, short and bitter, "There wouldn't be bodies, and they'd never find us."

 

"No," Tim agreed, needing to see some of the fear settle out of Raylan's shoulders and tense hands, but he didn't dare touch him.  That the idea didn't upset him didn't mean it was somethin' he wanted, and just because he'd be afraid for Tim in Kentucky didn't mean he'd decide to be by his side in Miami.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter! Sorry, all!


	4. Raylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan's got permission to touch - right? Does that mean he gets to touch everything?

Raylan watched as Tim stood unmovable in the kitchen, a pillar of fiery rage and dark eyes, smart mouth sharp as he sneered about people stupid enough to try to hurt  _them._

 

He knew that in his bones, Tim was right, but it didn't help much with the fear he'd carried since the mines.  He stood up, hesitating to touch Tim, afraid he'd pull away, it'd be something he  _didn't_ want, or that he'd realize suddenly that Raylan was too old for him and worn out with a life of hard knocks.  Tim tilted his head back to him, storm-blue eyes set on his, not moving away, but not moving  _in_ , either.  "Tim? Help me out, here?" He was pretty far adrift from where he'd started his morning, where he'd thought the evening was, how he'd woken up and how he expected to go to sleep. This close, he could feel his heat and smell his aftershave and sunblock, the tang of sweat a familiar thing in itself.

 

"You're doin' just fine on your own," Tim said, smiling at him, his actual smile he reserved for his son and now, ever more frequently, for Raylan.  He shifted just enough to be closer to Raylan, and Raylan carefully rested a hand on his hip, the other sliding low around his back, watching his face.  Tim closed the rest of the distance, turning his head to the side as he rested his cheek against Raylan's shoulder.  Raylan closed his eyes and let himself feel the weight, the warmth, and try to decide if...

 

There wasn't much of a decision to be made, and he knew it.  Not when he could feel Tim's heartbeat, his breath on his throat and his hands sliding to rest on his back, one thumb hooking over the top of his backup, and he could  _feel_  Tim smiling. 

  
He let out the breath he'd held, shaky in the exhalation and tightened his arms on Tim, just a little, just to feel him. He rubbed his thumb carefully along the ridge of Tim's hip, and Tim shifted, pressing his mouth carefully to the side of Raylan's throat below his jaw, kissing him softly. Raylan shuddered, full body, closing his eyes and holding onto him, hard, "Tim," he said softly, "Think it's safe to say we're maybe gonna be okay with bein' a little bit more than friends?"

 

"Mm," Tim's sounded smug, "Yes." he stepped back, adjusted himself, "Well. Not what I planned to do on my Tuesday evening, but," he grinned, "I'll take it."

 

"I'll say," Raylan said, grinning and letting go reluctantly as Tim turned back to the stove. He let himself look at him in a new way, and smirked, hopeful.  What other tats might he have?  He settled back to think on it, imagining what - and where - they'd be, if he had any.  Tim moved like he always did, nothing wasted and nothing shy of what he needed it to be. 

 

"You're staring," Tim commented.

 

"I am. Do you mind it?”

 

"Not much, no," Tim sounded amused, "But it's nothing you haven't seen for  _years_."

 

"Yeah, but now I can  _touch_ , maybe?"

 

"You can touch," Tim confirmed, amused. Raylan watched his back get tight, from hips up to the nape of his neck, his voice a little off - worried, Raylan realized, "No tickling me, no sneaking up on me, no covering my eyes."  
"Well, no," Raylan said, "Not into any of that, thanks, I'm hardly a teenaged girl who thinks it's cute."

 

"Thank  _fuck_ ," Tim said, looking over his shoulder at him with a smile, relief evident on his face. Raylan almost shook his head to see it - nobody should be that damned  _grateful_  to have simple boundaries respected. Simple, clear boundaries that Raylan was very glad l to have laid out for him.

 

...speaking of boundaries... no, best to just ride this out, figure it out as they went, defining relationships, in Raylan's experience, often just made things go south in a fast hurry.  They'd known they wanted each other for five minutes.  Let it be just that.  

 

He couldn't help that he wanted more, already, but he  _could_  and he  _would_ keep his mouth shut. 

 

"Arthur Ray, Willa Jean," Tim didn't raise his voice above speaking, but he did speak clearly, and the ruckus in the family room died back,  "It's time for dinner."

 

Arthur and Willa tumbled into the kitchen like a pair of wild kittens, and Raylan scooped up his kid to get her washed and to the table while Tim grabbed Artie, glancing up from blowing raspberries on his stomach to beam at Raylan, so happy it hurt to look at him.  Raylan wanted this so damn bad it scared him, and he smiled back and kept his mouth shut. 

 

*

That permission to touch apparently went both ways, as Tim took to sitting closer to him and he got used to the feel of bigger, stronger hands than he was accustomed to feeling sliding along his back sometimes.  He leaned into every bit of it- he was a touch whore, as Winona had told him a time or two.  Tim didn't seem to mind Raylan's hands on him, either, even if he jumped about a foot the first time Raylan cupped his ass as he bent over to unload the dishwasher.

 

Raylan would treasure the fact that he could make a Ranger blush.  It was, he told himself smugly, a skill. In his week of imagining what Tim would be like in bed, though, he hadn't expected so much hesitation. He was eager enough to touch and be touched, even settling over Raylan's legs and making out when Artie had gone to bed- damn that was nice- but as Raylan's fingers slid under his shirt he shied away, redirecting Raylan's quest for skin. 

 

That happened two or three times before Raylan decided it was something he should probably ask about- was that a boundary, a not-yet, what? If it was the former, he was gonna stop. If not yet, okay, tell me when. (Didn't make sense, since Raylan had lost his shirt to Tim's clever fingers some time since.)And something else... he didn't know.

 

Raylan went for direct, taking his hands back and leaning away from Tim's mouth which had been busy on his throat. "Tim?"

 

"Mm?" Tim leaned back, a flash of something Raylan couldn't like in his eyes.

 

"What's bothering you, when I try to touch you on the skin?"

 

Tim slid off his lap, a loss that Raylan's dick mourned and his hands caught at air and closed on his own thighs, watching Tim closely. "It isn't you, I just... fuck, I generally just leave it on," Tim shrugged, not looking him in the face, "But I shoulda figured you wouldn't go for that, huh?"

 

"I can if you need me to," Raylan said slowly, "Although I don't understand, but I reckon I don't need to."

 

Tim's eyes searched his face, and he nodded, "Okay, I just..." he made a face, "Fuck, its easiest to just show you, I guess."  He stood up, unbuttoning his shirt almost angrily, not looking at Raylan as he yanked the tails out of his pants and shrugged his shoulders free.

 

Raylan saw the edge of the tattoo and very much wanted to feel it below his teeth but he clutched his thighs and just watched as Tim shucked his undershirt. "See?" Tim asked, his voice sharp, and Raylan really really needed to trace that path from his navel downwards with his tongue, right now, but Tim was asking if he saw, so he looked.  

 

"Um," he hesitated, "I ain't trying to be an asshole, here, but, are you meaning the scars?"

 

"Yes," Tim's teeth were gritted, "Obviously."

 

Not that obviously, Raylan thought. Well, the scars were obvious. In fact, that had to have been a horrific wound, when it first happened.  He'd come close to never meeting Tim, he realized, and that would have been a crime.

 

"They hurt?" If they hurt, fuck, that was shitty.  His own rarely bothered him, anymore, except the occasional pulling from that bulletwound courtesy of Doyle Bennett. 

 

"Not anymore," Tim shrugged, turning so Raylan could see the back as well, and there was more- whatever it was it either had come from the side or gone clear through him, chunks of him missing and stitched back together, and the older scars, those made him angry, because he knew the mark a belt left, and a cigarette, and Tim's skin had seen both while he was still growing.

 

But they didn't hurt. 

 

"So..." Raylan turned his hands over, "Can I touch, or not? I'm confused, here, Tim, I-"

 

Tim whirled back to him, his face searching Raylan's, "You'd want to?"

 

"You said it doesn't hurt," Raylan pointed out.  

 

"Not gonna ask what happened? Expect a story?"

 

"No," Raylan said, "If you'd wanted to tell me the story, you'd have mentioned it sometime in the last eight years, I suppose. You're pretty clear when you want to get a point across, most times, if you aren't being an asshole, which doesn't seem to be the look you're going for right now?"

 

Tim stared at him for a moment, his face going from more than half angry to confused to half-frightened and ashamed to hopeful, and Raylan stared back.

 

He opened his hand, letting the shirt drop, and came forward, to within arm's reach, closer, sliding back onto Raylan's lap.

 

Raylan clenched his hands into fists and kept them off of him by force of will, and Tim looked him in the eye, taking one of Raylan's hands and settling it against his side, palm pressing against the uneven texture of the scar there, and Raylan realized he was shaking.

 

"I don't know," he said softly as Tim moved his other hand onto his skin, looking down at him, his teeth sunk into his lip and his muscles tense everywhere Raylan could feel and see, "What the people you've been with have done to make you... feel like this isn't something that could be wanted," he said, sliding his hands over the flesh and watching as Tim's face tightened, feeling his breath still in his chest under Raylan's hands, "But I don't agree with 'em, Tim, and so long as  I don't hurt you- I couldn't want to hurt you, darlin'."

 

Tim honest to god fucking whimpered, and Raylan pulled him in, skin to skin and the Ranger wasn't there at all, just Tim, and just Raylan, and Tim fell apart something beautiful.

 

He was, Raylan whispered, fucking beautiful. 

  
"Raylan," Tim's voice was wrecked, and Raylan pulled him tighter, let him feel that those marks on him didn't matter to Raylan a bit, not to what he wanted with him, and- "Go ahead, I want-" and that was all the permission Raylan required, and he rolled them both to lie down on the couch and set about making certain Tim knew he was wanted, that he needed him.

 

He drank in everything about Tim's body, promised himself that if he missed something this time, he'd enjoy it next time, and that there'd be a next time if it was in his power to ensure it.  

 

Damn, he was beautiful. Raylan lay next to him, both of them still panting, and Tim's eyes were closed, his face relaxed and smiling around the eyes.  He petted a hand over his sides, heavy and sated but still wanting just to touch, like a second slice of pie after a full thanksgiving dinner. Decadent, luxurious, and infinitely gratifying. That was this moment. 

 

Surprising, too, because he had maybe been thinking about it a bit, what Tim would be like, and he'd expected commanding, a little rough, Tim's temper as much fun to play with in bed as it was everywhere else.  He'd gotten a partner who met him and didn't try to overpower, gentle, and goddamn, when he yielded... Raylan groaned and nuzzled into Tim's neck again, down along his collarbone to lick at the bruise Tim had let him leave. Tim hummed at him, winding around him and turning to kiss the top of his head, sleepy and sated.  

 

And, Raylan smirked, he had two more tattoos. Not, he thought, that he'd ever tell Winona.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this section of this series, folks! I hope you've enjoyed it. If you have, please consider leaving me a comment. It's how I know you liked it, or hated it, or want more of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love and keep me writing!


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